


Strawberry Fields Forever

by orphan_account



Series: Drabbles [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Stiles accidentally screws up what was supposed to be a date by bringing the whole pack along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Fields Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on tumblr, and Anon gave me "strawberry." And then this happened.
> 
> Edit (10/01/12): Skellyrox made a [podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/526713)!

Stiles looks up when he hears the familiar thunk of Derek’s feet—boot clad, all the time—padding along the floor. Stiles looks up, following the lines of Derek’s body—so misfortunately clothed, he thinks—right into his face. His face, gorgeous as ever, and considerably less… angry, than Stiles has grown used to. “What’s up?” He asks, if only because Derek will never say something first.

Or second, because Derek remains silent as he holds up a wicker picnic basket.

“Words, Derek, we’ve talked about this.”

“You’re coming with.” Derek grits out, still not angry.

“Is it a pack outing?” Stiles retorts, quirking an eyebrow. He can see the corner of a folded up red-white checkered blanket peeking out from the basket.

“Do you want it to be?”

Stiles shrugs. “It’d be cool to find a place in the woods and all relax together.” He concedes; it isn’t that they don’t hang out—they all do, all the time. But when they do it’s for research, for training, for awkward pack-family dinners where Ms. McCall and the Sheriff join in because they’re pack too.

Derek’s cheeks twitch, and Stiles thinks it’s the closest thing he’s seen to a nonthreatening smile for the first time. Stiles beams back, until his cheeks hurt from the force of it, and tells him “I’ll call everyone up and we can hike there together.”

)

Hiking there, predictably, turns out to be a complete disaster. Lydia refuses to go unless someone carries her, because she got her fill of trekking through the woods after the whole Peter debacle, thanks. So Jackson easily scoops her up, which solves one problem out of a million.

Scott obviously feels he should carry Alison, be a good boyfriend too, but she’s having none of it because they’re still uneasy in this are we-aren’t we-what are we even doing stage of what Stiles hopes will be a blossoming love life. Isaac gets scooped up by Erica, which leads to a quick scrap of growling and playful tearing of clothes.

And, it turns out they forgot Diet Coke, which is all that Boyd will drink so one wolf has to go back for that—and then another has to go back for an extra blanket because Lydia swears that the way the clouds are hanging in the air means it’ll be chilly and a little misty.

And, this all boils down to Stiles having to help fix each problem since Derek is the only one who knows where they’re going and refuses to get distracted for even a moment. And Stiles is totally the best friend to everyone ever, because he does help fix each problem—including attempting to peel Erica and Isaac apart when the fight goes on too long—but what it also results in is him tripping over every root and every stray twig in attempting to both help, and keep up with his freakishly athletic friends.

And, like a line of superbly freakish dominoes, all that tripping leads to a growl—more of a roar—from big ol’ Alpha Hale, and his ordering the pack to stop.

Which, they all do, because they’re all a bunch of little puppies. Derek grabs Stiles by the sleeves and hauls him closer, and without a word simply bends, his back to Stiles.

“Uh, what?” Stiles looks towards his friends for help, but they’re all gnawing their tongues to keep from laughing. “Dude—no, dude, I’m fine.” Stiles swallows. “I don’t need a piggy back ride, seriously.”

“Stiles.”

He’d like to say he didn’t meep in terror and immediately launch himself at Derek’s back, but he’d be lying.

)

Stiles wakes up wondering when the fuck he fell asleep. He wakes up, and they’re still walking, but he can see the difference in scenery—no longer are they surrounded by trees and moldy leaves and mossy forest floor, but instead they’re in a sort of Twilight-esque clearing, all sweet green grass and seclusion. Stiles yawns, realizes he just yawned in Derek’s ear, and attempts to flail.

“Stiles.” Derek says again, like he always does, as a warning.

“Sorry.” He says, low enough that it’s almost like a private conversation except not because they’re all werewolves. “Is this the spot?”

Derek nods, and stops walking; Stiles looks behind to see the rest of the pack already spreading out, chatting, teasing each other as they take in the view.

“It’s really pretty.” Stiles adds; he doesn’t ask ‘did you used to come here with your family’ because he already knows the answer (yes) and he isn’t going to be that much of a cliche, not today.

Derek shrugs his shoulders and Stiles takes that as his queue to just kind of let go and fall off Derek’s back in a mess of flailing limbs and plaid. He hits the ground with a heavy thud, and Derek doesn’t even look concerned. Derek does, though, offer a hand to help him up, and once Stiles is back on his feet, he follows Derek to the center of the clearing to lay down the blanket.

He hears Boyd and Scott start a play fight that turns into a puppy pile, Lydia and Alison sit on the other blanket and if Stiles strains his ears, he can hear them placing bets as the rest of the betas join the fight. Stiles sits on the blanket, uncaring as Derek sits beside him, and grins.

“This was a good idea.” Stiles declares.

Derek looks pleased, in that ever so faint and emotionally constipated way he works so well. “I’m glad we made it a pack thing.” He agrees.

Stiles looks over, “what would it have been otherwise?” There’s a small hint of jest in his tone, but it’s weak, an afterthought.

Derek doesn’t answer, and instead grabs a tupperware container from the basket; it’s sloshing with pink liquid in it, just enough to coat the bottom, and Stiles can smell the fresh scent of strawberries before the lid is even off. Stiles scoots a little closer and flattens out the wrinkles he creased in the blanket.

Derek keeps silent and he peels off the lid and takes out a strawberry by the green leafy top thing. He holds it out to Stiles, not to grab, but simply to eat.

“I feel like I should ask but it might ruin the moment,” he asks without  _really_ asking. Derek smiles, and urges the berry forward again. Stiles hesitates, feeling his face turn pink, but finally just decides to take a bite of the fucking thing. And it’s worth it, because it’s so fresh and the taste so sharp it runs a shiver down his spine, and juice dribbles down his chin, probably dripping down and staining the blanket, too.

Derek grins, and tosses the top of the strawberry, the useless less-tasty part, away.

“You know to some people this is a very sensual form of erotica.” Stiles’ mouth says without his explicit consent.

Derek laughs, like, full on belly-born laughter bubbling up and out of him into the open air of the clearing; it catches everyone else’s attention just in time to watch Derek draw Stiles closer and kiss him soundly, licking the strawberry juice from his lips. Stiles, over the blood rushing in his ears and internal freak out, can hear Lydia and Alison cheering and clapping, can hear Erica’s wolf whistle and Scott’s dejected ‘dude right in front of me!?’, can hear Jackson and Boyd’s identical ‘finally.’

When Derek finally pulls back and Stiles can breath through his own mouth instead of taking what Derek gives him, Stiles nods slowly. “Maybe next time just us? That’d be cool, too.”

Derek smiles, and shimmies closer until Stiles as no choice but to just plaster himself along Derek’s side.

“Sorry I fucked up your attempt to ask me on a date.” Stiles says after a few more strawberries and prolonged silence.

Derek shrugs. “This is nice, too,” he agrees again. Stiles grins and tugs him in for another kiss. Slowly but surely, Stiles and Derek sort of just roll over onto the blanket, a mess of lazy and sleeping limbs. Slowly but surely, the rest of the pack comes over and eventually they’re all a mess of pack, of curled up bodies and akimbo limbs, all trying to fit on the one blanket and actually managing it. 

Stiles grins where he’s pressed into Derek, content and happy and so very at home.


End file.
